On Tuxedos

At the wedding the other week, Dan was kind enough to remark to me that I looked good in a tux.

Duh. If you put Quasimodo in a bow tie and tails he'd look pretty spiffy, too.

But no, Dan was adamant that while most guys look good in a tux, I had somehow looked phenomenal, as though by donning a vest and some artificially-shined Oxfords had driven me several full points up the fashionability scale.

"Ordinarily," he informed me, "you dress like a hobo. Or a drifter. The kind of drifter who kills other drifters." Thanks, man.

So yeah. I clean up pretty good.

I was remarking about this story to a coworker of mine, who suggested that I wear a tux all the time. I told him that I had already hatched that idea and was cool with it.

Problem is, Seattle is seriously not much of a fancy dress-up goin' out on the town kind of place. You can pretty much hit up the opera in flip-flops and an old oversized Garfield T-shirt if you want. I once put on a necktie to go see Spamalot and my group of friends were visibly surprised that I'd don the one thing in my closet that doesn't have spaghetti sauce stains on it.

So yeah, tuxing around town is going to prove awkward and problematic.